


Scenario

by sundayrain26



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, Face-Sitting, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Threesome - F/M/M, if you squint? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundayrain26/pseuds/sundayrain26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a direct sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/734531">When We Get Home...</a> by AdamantSteve. With their permission, I wrote out the proposed scenario from the end of their story. I highly suggest reading it first.</p><p>Clint and Natasha have talked of threesomes with Phil. This is that come to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenario

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AdamantSteve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/gifts).



> If you've not read it, go read [When We Get Home...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/734531) by AdamantSteve. I also suggest checking out their other works. They are fabulous!
> 
>  
> 
> So I've had a fair bit of this written up for close to two years. I just finally finished it. And on a sleep deprived kick, no less. So if you've found any errors, please point them out. I did try to read it over a couple times to weed them out though.

It isn't until hours later that the opportunity arises to discuss the scenario. Reinforcements had arrived before they could manage any form of explanation and they all really preferred not to make a scene. So after debriefs and trips to medical - except for Clint because Clint Barton simply does not do doctors unless he's unconscious - Phil has the mind to ask Clint about Natasha’s steadfast fixation with the aforementioned scenario. It was certainly a lovely idea, there was no denying that. In fact the thought had been creeping back into his mind the entire way back to headquarters and throughout debriefs. Which, by the way, wasn't the best thing to be picturing mid dissemination with your colleagues.

“Huh? Oh,” Clint starts, his tone revealing that he’d almost hoped that Phil might forget to ask for just a bit longer. When he continues, he speaks sluggishly, dragging out his explanation. “You know how close I am with Tasha. We just started.. talking one day. Hypotheticals, you know.”

Phil levels a cool gaze at the archer absently nursing his own wounds. After a few beats, he finally replies, carefully selecting his words to mirror their prior conversation, “Are you saying Natasha is in fact amenable to such a scenario?”

“Yeah, you know how Nat is about sex,” Clint tosses back, his attention on cleaning dirt and rubble out of a scrape on his arm.

“You want that to be a little less hypothetical?”

Clint blinks, taking a moment to process even as his mouth gapes. “Wait, what?”

“Well, if the two of you devised it then it must appeal to the both of you. And you've already discovered that I’m not opposed to the idea.” Coulson shrugs appearing as collected as always; like they were merely discussing the weather. “So. Why not?”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” He’s abandoned disinfecting his scrapes in favor of watching Phil in amazement. “Any chance of you making good on any of those things you promised to do in the meantime?”

\-----

Clint finds overlapping free time for the three of them in record time. Barely a week after that fateful tied-up dirty talk, he’s peeling off his shirt while Phil removes Natasha’s lacy bra with care. He cups the soft flesh in his hands and bends to nibble, lick and suck. Phil may be sleeping with a man, but never let it be said that he couldn't appreciate the sumptuous feminine form.

Clint drops a brief sucking kiss to the base of Natasha's neck before moving behind Phil. His hands splay out upon the man's back, letting them slip around to his front, fingers dancing over his faintly haired chest, toying with the slightly thicker patch in the center. He nuzzles along the hairline at the back of his neck and sucks a precise spot behind Phil’s left ear.

With an almost practiced synchronization, Clint’s hands slip down to undo Phil’s belt while Nat’s hands drop to undo the fly. Together, they push his trousers down his hips until they fall to pool around his ankles. Phil gladly steps out of the legs and kicks the article aside. His cock strains against the front of his boxer briefs as he watches Natasha in only a pair of skimpy underwear and Clint in thin sleep pants stand shoulder-to-shoulder. The stance, while not unusual, suddenly conveys a deep sense of intimacy; these two know one another inside and out.

The pair kneel simultaneously. They move like they're on a mission - or rather, he is their mission. Natasha leans in first, her delicate, deadly hands hooking in the elastic of his pants. He releases a breath, letting one hand fall on Clint’s shoulder. She slowly teases the pants off him, even after his cock has bounced free in her face. Distracted by the slow slide of fabric down his legs, he almost doesn't see Clint moving to join in. One archery-calloused hand closes around his length. He groans and nearly stumbles as he steps out of his underwear at Nat's guidance.

Soft lips press a kiss to his tip and he looks down in time to see Clint leaning in to mouth along one side. Barton backs off as Natasha swallows him down, deadly precise even in the act of oral sex. Phil's eyes roll back, one hand tight in Clint's hair, the other stroking the side of Natasha's neck. A few ups and downs along his length, enough to have him slick with saliva, and she's pulling back. Before he can voice any complaint, there are two mouths on his cock, lips and tongues playing with one another around him and taking turns sucking at the head. "Ah, you two are gonna kill me," he grunts out, teeth clenched with restraint. Clint smirks and Nat simply shimmies her tongue into his slit, furthering his point.

One of Clint's hands rests against Phil's pelvis, finger and thumb encircling the base of his erection while the other hand slides around his hip to grope at his ass. He shifts, displacing Nat to swallow Phil’s cock in its entirety. Damn straight he doesn't choke. Tasha doesn't miss a beat and simply shifts her attention to his balls, sucking each one into her mouth in turn and tugging at the skin surrounding them. Barton damn near growls around him, nose buried against the little dark patch of hair. Phil looks down, locking with Clint’s eyes as if to say, _Point taken._ Natasha is still mouthing his balls when sharp fingernails are pinpoints of pressure along his perineum causing him to gasp. Clint, still fellating Phil, pulls his hand away to fish something out of his pocket. There's the quiet snick of a bottle. Lube.

Their mouths are working in harmony once again as Clint strokes slick fingers along Phil's hole. He lets one sink inside and Phil grunts, his hips tilting. Just as he's becoming frustrated with only a single finger, Natasha's hand returns to his perineum - wait, when had it left? - slick with lube. Nonsensical sounds fall from his lips as one of her narrow fingers presses in alongside Clint's thicker one. He's rocking between their hands and their mouths, one hand on Natasha's hair, the other alternating gripping and petting Clint's neck and shoulder. He looks down to watch the two of them, tongues entangled even as their lips caress his cock. His mouth hangs open and he moans, utterly turned on by their little show.

Another of Clint's fingers joins the one in his ass. Their fingers are moving in synchronized strokes. Phil's a trembling mess by the time Natasha slips in a slender finger, totaling four fingers, two from Clint and two from Nat, moving inside him. They lose their rhythm, but even that feels intentional as they move in perfect counterpoint, one thrusting in as the other pulls out. He's panting and murmuring nonsense to his assassins.

Some unspoken trigger has them removing their fingers and mouths, standing to crowd right into Phil’s space. Their hands on him guide him back until they're at the end of the bed. They nudge him close to it's edge and he takes the hint to lie out on his back. Clint pushes his pants off his hips, no underwear beneath, to pool on the floor. Natasha is doing the same before Barton's hands move to take over the task for her. They're right up in one another's space, faces close enough to share breath, almost like Phil isn't even in the room. He thinks for a moment they're going to kiss, maybe put on a little display for him, but their attention is back on him within a minute. Natasha swats his hand away from his dick as she crawls up next to him. Clint is lifting his legs, folding them up to expose his backside. A flat swipe of his tongue teases his hole and Tasha swallows his groan, licking into his mouth. The next thing Phil feels is the blunt heat of Clint's cock pressing into him and he downright keens. He thrusts shallowly, sinking in farther with each one and lets Phil's legs fall to fold around his waist.

Natasha nips at Phil's lips, ending their kiss to move. She throws a leg over Coulson's head, holding herself up on her knees above his face. He lifts his head and reaches up to pull down on her thighs. His tongue strokes a precise line from her clit down between her lips. The tang of her arousal is sharply sweet on his tongue. Flexing his hips in time with Barton's rhythm, he settles in to fuck his tongue into Natasha, he can feel her lean forward and Clint pauses long enough to shift as well. The wet sounds of their kissing has him groaning, moving one of his hands to squeeze at Clint's thigh, his hip, anything. He gasps, turning his head to face one of Nat's thighs, "Harder." He punctuates his request with a wet kiss to the skin in front of him before turning back to suck on Natasha's clit. Her hips grind down against his face and he can hear her breath catch. Clint obliges him, moving harder and faster inside him, enough to jar him and press his face further into the apex of Natasha's thighs. Hands are all over him, toying with his nipples, stroking his sides, playing with the hair on his chest, gripping his hips. He'd be hard pressed to even sort out which hands belong to whom if not for the vast difference between square callused and soft elegant. Even then it's a chore to make his brain decipher the two. Natasha pants and gasps through her orgasm. A hand, Clint's, closes around his cock to jerk him in time with his thrusts. Nat's fingernails scrape along his torso, pressing her pelvis lower against his face, demanding, "More."

More than happy to do as she pleases, Phil redoubles his efforts, flicking his tongue against her clit and offering a transient, wet suction. She comes again, dripping on to his face and he keeps right on, interrupted only by his own panting breaths as Clint angles perfectly to hit his prostate. His mouth gapes uselessly at Tasha's folds as he comes on his belly over Clint's hand. Nat pinches one of his nipples and he jerks, over sensitive to the sensation. He gets his shit back together and continues his assault on her cunt, clenching his ass around Clint. He slides a hand up Natasha's body to fondle her breasts and Clint's mouth joins his hands there for a moment. It doesn't take much to have the redhead writhing through another orgasm.

Clint's rhythm becomes erratic and Phil drops his hands to pull at him, fingers digging into his ass, encouraging him along. "Ah, fuck Phil," he grits out as his orgasm quakes through him.

Phil wants to make some smartass remark about how, yes, that's exactly what you're doing, but keeps his mouth busy pressing kisses and little kitten licks to Natasha. She dismounts his face and slumps on to the bed, letting her head rest in the crook of Phil's shoulder. Phil's hips follow Clint's cock as it's withdrawn. The marksmen tumbles on to the bed, draping an arm over Phil's torso, his fingers dancing over Nat's skin. They're a pile sweat and spunk and limbs, perfectly satiated.

“So,” Phil glances innocently between Clint and Natasha. “Any other scenarios you two are keeping from me?”


End file.
